


Not Meant to be Broken

by supahnova



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Aftermath of Torture, Also flashbacks of q learning how to fight from bond, Basically what if q had been captured on the ski lift, Electrocution, First 00q fic, M/M, Moneypenny is our lord and savior, Paranoia, Q has zero pain tolerance, Q is smol and scared of everything but also bamf, R, R is a badass with a backstory and we love her, Torture, Torturers with a lot of thought put into their character, fluff later, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5195402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supahnova/pseuds/supahnova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q really, really hated heights.</p><p>And, you know, being cornered by assassins ski lifts made of glass. </p><p>It was not a good day for Q.</p><p>Basically, what if Q had been captured in the ski lift? And, of course, Bond is all for going in guns blazing to rescue him, but this is a bit more of a heist story than a "let's go in and kill everyone" story (although that happens too) courtesy of Moneypenny being a genius. Warnings for me treating Q like shit.</p><p>Oh god, this has gotten a lot more intense than intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Q really, really hated heights.

And, you know, being cornered by assassins ski lifts made of glass. 

It was not a good day for Q.

"This is the Quartermaster?" The man blocking Q's exit sneered. "He's so..." He placed two fingers on Q's laptop, hugged tight to his chest.  
"Small." Q stumbled as the man pushed him effortlessly back into the lift. The doors shut. The lift whirred back to life. Shit. Q swallowed.   
"I assume this isn't a friendly meeting?" He said in a cold tone, standing perfectly still. Because what was the point. They knew who he was. And Q didn't take well to insulting other people's intelligence. The man sitting across from him laughed softly.   
"Oh, I can assure you it is not." Goon 1 (As Q had decided to call him) smiled menacingly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a roll of silver duct tape.  
"I must say, I'm a little insulted," Q said sarcastically, his hand twitching nervously. "Budget cuts?"  
Goon 1 only smiled wider. "Something along those lines, little Quartermaster."  
Q blinked rapidly, unconsciously backing into the glass side of the ski car. He only noticed that he had been stumbling backwards when his back hit the glass. Q glanced to the side and- shit. God, they were high up. Q's hand shook a little more violently, his fingers curling more tightly around the edge of his laptop.  
"I'm afraid we're on a schedule here, boy," the broad, muscled one said with a smirk, advancing on the Quartermaster. Q's eyes widened. He didn't know how to do this- how to be a Bond, how to be an Agent. 

It took one blow to the head. That's all it took to send the Quartermaster of MI6 crumpling like a cup to the floor.

Bond would be ashamed.

\-------------

"God, Q, can't you do anything?" Bond said, exasperated, as he blocked another one of Q's weak punches with one arm. Q flushed, pulling back and adjusting his spectacles.  
"007, it is highly unlikely that my safety will ever be compromised. Some people don't enjoy trying to get themselves killed every other day."  
"Q, you can't continue ignoring all physical training-"  
"Watch me!"  
Bond's jaw twitched. "Five seconds."  
"What?"  
"I could take you down in five seconds."  
Q glared at him. "007, I think you underestimate my- ah!   
Bond lunged at him, grabbing his arm, and before Q knew what hit him he was flipped hard onto his back, knocking the breath out of him. In seconds, Bond had Q's skinny arms pinned above his head and was straddling his waist in an all-too suggestive way. Q gasped for breath, his glasses slipping down his nose.  
"Alright there, Quartermaster?"  
"That- was at least- seven seconds," Q gasped out, glaring at 007. He had seen enough video footage of Bond in the field to know that Bond had used this move several times- to seduce women half his age.   
"Get off me, 007."

\-----------

Q really didn't like it when people took his glasses. People used to pluck them off his face in school, hide them or break them or just tease him with them, holding them just out of his reach. He hated it. He hated how everything around him lost its sharp edge, how lights became blurred circles and people became vague shapes. Even sounds and smells seemed muted. The only thing that remained sharply in focus was his sense of touch- the freeze of the wind, the claw-like grab of someone's hand on his shoulder. Or, in this case, the bite of too-tightly wrapped duct tape around his wrists and ankles. 

The Quartermaster wasn't supposed to panic, Q knew that. The Quartermaster was supposed to always stay calm, to see the bigger picture, to carry on as his agents died and buildings exploded around him. But Q wasn't that Quartermaster, not then. Q always turned off his comms when the screams got too loud, Q always avoided medical and winced at the slightest spill of blood, Q, like his gadgets, wasn't built to be broken. Q wasn't calm. He was terrified. His mind was flying through lists upon lists of the tortures his agents had suffered throw. Fingernails pulled off. Bones snapped, one by one. Needles slowly pushed through skin. Beatings, whippings, electric shocks, waterboarding. They had all just been words before. Words and screams he could silence with the push of a button, things he could ignore. Not anymore.

Sleep deprivation. Branding. Bleeding out. Bamboo whittled to a point and grown through his body (he always hated that one). 

Q was going to drive himself insane before someone even opened the blank, white door to the blank, white room. 

He scrunched his eyes shut, and reopened them. He did that when he needed to focus, when an agent was in his position and he needed to save them. Q forced himslef to take deep breaths. Analyse the situation. Find an escape. Find a weak point, an escape, an indication of where the hell he was. That was what he did for his agents. That was what he needed to do for himself.

Q was tied to a chair. His clothes were intact, other than his glasses and his large winter coat. Duct tape was wrapped across his chest, keeping him pinned to the chair (Seriously, budget cuts much? Although, Q supposed, duct tape would be just as effective as titanium handcuffs when it came to him). His ankles were each taped to legs of the chair, uncomfortably tightly, and his wrists were bound together behind the chair. From what Q could see, he was in a perfectly white room, lit a little too brightly for his liking. A mirror stretched across one of the walls. Two way, Q assumed. 

He still had no bloody idea how to escape. 

Suddenly, the door swung open. Naturally, it was a man with greased up hair and an impeccable suit. God, all villains just had to be rich smirking bastards.

"Quartermaster," the man greeted him, smiling coldly. "I do apologize for your...treatment."  
Q glared up at him. "Ha bloody ha. And you might be?"  
The man's smile snapped off his face for just an instant, like a light flickering.   
"Call me R."  
Q shook his head dismissively. "Already know an R. Do try to keep things simple for me."  
"Oh? And which letter would you prefer then, Q?"  
"I'd prefer a name."  
The man sighed. "I'd prefer your name, too, Mr. Q, but we can't all have what we want. Not today, anyways."  
Q shivered at his last comment, keeping his face as blank as possible.   
"What do you want?"  
"Oh, my dear Q, I already have what I want."  
"No, you don't. I won't give you any...information. Not on Bond, not on MI6, not on anything."  
The man laughed softly. "And to think I heard that you weren't humble."  
Q's eyebrows scrunched together. "What is it, then? Hacking?"  
"Oh, Q, I don't need you to do anything. I just need you to stay where you are. The next people over might not be so kind."  
"Who are you?" Q repeated sharply.  
The man smiled broadly. "I'm nobody. I'm the delivery man. And you, Q, are the package. So, you see, I don't need anything from you. I just want to get you safe and sound to the people who do."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond realizes Q's gone. Q whump starts next chapter...
> 
> Also, thank you for all of the comments and kudos! I usually don't write for such a popular pairing and I was so excited when I saw how many people had liked this <3

The Quartermaster was pretty terrible at defending himself for someone that was supposed to specialize in weaponry. At least, that's what James thought at first. Q couldn't throw a punch if his life depended on it. He bruised if someone so much as grabbed his wrist, and constantly looked like he was teetering on the edge of a very, very high cliff. He wouldn't last two seconds in the field.

"James," Moneypenny greeted him, eyeing the pistol in his hand. "What are you up to now? I hope I don't have to clean up for you. Again."  
"Nothing to worry your head about, Moneypenny," James said sardonically. "Just need to clear my head."  
Moneypenny smiled. "That doesn't quite reassure me, James."  
"I would never make trouble for you, Moneypenny."  
"Liar." Moneypenny's musical laugh echoed as she walked away. 

James Bond liked the shooting range. At this time in the morning, it was usually empty. It relaxed him, shooting things. That concerned the psychologists quite a bit. When he heard the sound of a gun firing, almost as steadily as a metronome, James pursed his lips and pushed open the door, ready to kick out whichever idiot was taking up his firing range.

"007." The man didn't even turn his head as he fired a final shot into his white silhouette target. James blinked.  
"Q."  
Q set down his gun carefully, dusting off his hands almost distastefully. He looked so out of place with his stupid grey turtleneck and his mussed up hair.  
"Do you need a few pointers?" James ventured cautiously. Q's lips twisted into a smile.  
"I don't think so, 007."  
For a moment, they just stared at each other, James cold and calculating and Q awkwardly fidgeting. Q finally cleared his throat, picking up his gun. "Well, this seems to be in order, so I'll leave you too it, 007."  
Q's gait was always so disjointed when he tried to walk quickly. James smirked, walking up to face Q's target.

The only mark on it was an almost perfect circle, about the size of James' fist, right in the center of the target's chest. 

Well, it wasn't the first time the Quartermaster had managed to surprise him.

\-----------------

"Package? What do you mean, package?" Q asked quickly, if only to keep the man talking. He needed information. Information would keep him focused. Information would save him.  
The man with the slicked-back hair laughed. Again. God damn it, Q was getting really tired of the laughing. "Quartermaster, do you know how much you're worth to certain organizations? The illustrious Q, MI6's little prodigy-"  
"I'm no one's prodigy," Q almost automatically snapped.  
"Prodigy or not, you, Q-" the man grabbed his chin, forcing his head up. Q glared at him. "-And the information you have, that's something worth a lot to a lot of people."  
Q tried to yank his head back, failing pitifully. "Then why sell me off? Why aren't you keeping me to yourself?" He said bitingly.  
"Because, Quartermaster," the man purred, his hands idly dragging across Q's hair. "I prefer to keep my hands clean of such nonsense."  
"Kidnapping, though, that's fine," Q replied sarcastically. Suddenly, the man backhanded him across the face, sending Q's head snapping to the side. He tasted blood.  
"Don't test me, Quartermaster."

\------------------

James was quite annoyed at Q. Was Q really so angry that he had stooped low enough as to give James the wrong address? James rapped loudly on the door of room number 12 again. Any moment now, he thought, Q would open the door, holding his laptop and spewing information at him before James even had the chance to say hello.

Except he didn't. 

Two hours later, he was back at MI6.  
"James!" Moneypenny was already at his side. "Who's this?" She nodded to Madeline.  
"And also-" Moneypenny gritted her teeth together, lowering her voice to a hiss. "Where the hell have you been?"  
"Austria. Have you seen Q?"  
"Q? No, he went after- I mean, he was just taking a day off. In his flat. At home. In London," Moneypenny said, her voice suddenly becoming loud and cheerful. James looked up. Ah, so that was why. M was approaching them, looking distinctly angry.  
"Bond! Who's this?"  
James flashed a charming smile at M. "Long story short, I was in Austria. May have utilized that license to kill you so generously have not revoked as of yet. Oh, and if you could take care of this-" James pushed Madeline towards M hurriedly. "That would be just wonderful."  
"Bond! Q said you were in England, in some bloody town-"  
"Always a pleasure talking to you, sir," Bond said loudly, dragging Moneypenny by the arm away from the disgruntled new M.  
"James, what's going on?"  
"Q's missing."  
Moneypenny rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Bond, what sort of trouble could Q get into?"  
"A lot, when they suddenly decide to just skip their way into the field!" Bond hissed.  
"Oh, god. You don't mean-"  
"He bloody came after me, complaining about is job and his cats and his mortgage? That's exactly what I mean. Except he's gone missing. Comms dead. Hotel room empty."  
"You're not saying that you think he's been captured?"  
"Q isn't exactly field trained. I need eyes and ears on him as soon as possible."  
Moneypenny nodded. "Are you sure you're not just...overreacting."  
James looked her dead in the eye. "If our Quartermaster's captured, or dead, or being tortured as we speak, it's on me. I'm responsible for this, and I need to get him back from wherever the hell he is."


	3. Chapter 3

Q had been upgraded. Slightly. Zip ties instead of duct tape on his wrists, and his glasses had been shoved on his face at some point. The organization he was sold for wanted him in working order, Q supposed. 

He had been shoved into a car, a black bag over his head. Almost an hour later, someone roughly grabbed him by the elbow, yanking him out of the car. He caught snippets of conversation, in a language he couldn't place. A case snapped open and shut. A new pair of hands yanked Q forward. Without warning, a needle pierced his arm, and Q collapsed.

When Q awoke, he was in another bright white room. He was in a sort of metal chair, his wrists clasped to the arms with metal devices he knew he would never escape. The room was bigger, cleaner. A sleek computer sat barely seven feet away from him- if only-  
"Quartermaster."  
A door clicked softly shut behind him.  
"Ah, finally some professionalism," Q managed. "The last people were absolutely terrible, I have to say."  
"I do apologize. They'll be dead by morning, I assure you."  
The man walked around to the computer, and frowned. He put his finger to his ear.  
"Tristan? My swively chair isn't here, bring it immediately."  
The man shook his head, smiling sadly at Q. "So hard to find good help these days."  
"Who are you?"  
"Oberhauser. You haven't heard of me, I suppose?"  
"I can't say that I have."  
The man sighed. "The one sorrow of the mastermind- the lack of credit when credit is due. Although I suppose you already know that, don't you?"  
He didn't give Q the chance to respond. "I won't lie, Quartermaster. I'm a busy man. I am going to ask you a very important question. If you agree, we'll be very good friends."  
Q swallowed. "And if I don't?"  
Oberhauser smiled cruelly. "Believe me when I say I can convince you. Although I'll only give you a week to...make up your mind. As I said, I'm a busy man. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what happens at the end of the week."  
He mimed firing a gun into Q's chest. "No more pretty Q."  
Q swallowed again.  
"Oh, don't worry, my first request is a very simple one. You see Q, clever Q, James Bond has your very special blood flowing in his veins, and all I want you to do is track it for me."  
Q's eyes widened. "No- not him, not ever. I won't do it."  
"Sell, that's unfortunate." Oberhausen sighed as if he was actually disappointed, like he had actually expected a different answer.  
The door opened again.  
"Ah, my swivel chair. Just in time."  
It was a young man, barely even Q's age. He still had spots, Q thought, with the strange desire to laugh hysterically.  
"Sir. Is he-?"  
"Not your concern, Tristan. Thank you for bringing my chair, but I'm afraid this meeting has concluded a little faster than I had hoped. Please, follow the standard procedure until our guest here has told you he's ready to cooperate- I'm afraid I have more important callings."  
Tristan's face split into a cruel smile, too cruel for his young, round face.  
"It would be my pleasure."

\----------------------------

Q was too bloody smart for his own good, James thought. Completely untraceable and untrackable to anyone who didn't have clearance- basically meaning Q and M were the only people who could actually track Q down at will.  
"And why can't we let M get involved, again?" Moneypenny asked, exasperated, as they entered Q's lair.  
"I don't want M involved, not yet. We're not sure what's happened to Q yet, and if it turns out he's still in Austria he'll be fired."  
"Better fired than dead."  
"You don't know Q."  
Moneypenny raised an eyebrow at James. "Oh? And you do?"  
"I know him well enough."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/quxTnEEETbo Rondo alla Turka. Because sadistic people need mathematically perfect music. 
> 
> Also I'm sorryyyyyy Q
> 
> I wanted to give my evil person more of a personality/insights because so often they're just unnamed thugs and why not make things interesting. Basically, he's how I imagine an evil Q. Please comment and tell my what you think! I don't usually add it OCs (is this an OC? I guess it is. Just a really evil trash OC of hate)

Q watched the boy warily. Boy- he was definitely a boy, and of the same build as Q. Skinny, with ginger hair flopping over his pale face, and an awkward sort of shiftiness Q was so familiar with in himself. For one wild second, Q thought maybe he could reason with him.  
"Look, Tristan, I can help you. I don't know how you got into this-"  
The boy suddenly backhanded him across the face, sending Q's glasses skittering across the floor. Q gritted his teeth together, slowly turning his head back to face his captor. Tristan looked down at him, disdainful.  
"When you speak to me, you will address me as sir." His voice was high and cold.  
Q snorted.  
"You still have spots," he shot back, echoing Bond.  
Tristan pressed his lips together, turning sharply and taking a seat in front of the computer. His long, spindly fingers flew over the keyboard. Suddenly, Mozart filled the room. Rondo alla turka, Q's brain supplied. Q glanced questioningly at Tristan.  
"Mozart," Tristan said loftily. "I get bored of the screams after a while."  
Q shuddered. Tristan glanced up sharply.  
"Scared? Quite unbecoming of...an MI6 agent, you said? Good lord, the twigs they're hiring these days."  
"Speak for yourself," Q managed to reply icily. 

Q had always hated it when people doubted his competency based on his age.

"Shall we begin?" 

Q didn't answer.

Tristan shrugged, quickly typing something into the computer.

"FUCK!" A jolt of electricity surged through Q's body, gone almost as quickly as it came. Q slumped into the chair, breathing heavily.  
"You really aren't an agent, are you?" Tristan laughed. He didn't wait for a response.  
"I've had agents before, big hulking men in suits, and they just sit there, and sit there, and sit there...for ages before their pain tolerance is remotely piqued. Really, quite dull. it's nice to get a reaction, I do work hard on these systems, you know."  
He quickly typed another command into the computer. 

I won't scream, thought Q, I won't, I'm ready now, I won't, I won't, I won't-

The next wave of electricity hit him like a brick wall, but the pain didn't stop, it wouldn't stop, Q was on fire and someone was screaming and everything was too bright and too dark at the same time- 

And then it was over. Q let out a dry sob, his head falling down and his arms and legs going limp again. Mozart peacefully played in the background.  
"Fifteen seconds," Tristan noted. "I could just leave you here, you know. For hours, with this thing on." He could have been discussing the weather.  
"And I could make it so you couldn't black out. That's why they like me, because I'm efficient. They don't like it when people go to sleep on them. And you? I don't think it will even take an hour to get what I want."  
"You're wrong," Q breathed out, trying to keep his voice from catching.  
"You're wrong, what?"  
"You're wrong- boy," Q spat out. A part of him hated himself for saying it. Bond called him a boy, M called him a boy, C had even called him a boy when they first met. "Get my coffee, boy." That's what he had said. And Q had hated C, not for Nine Eyes, not for his pretentiousness, but because of that. Because he underestimated Q so quickly. Q had hated 007 for that too, for a while. It was hard to hate 007, though. No, Q did hate 007. He hated 007 with a passion. But he hated 007 in a confused way. 007 had an irresistible pull, and Q had been caught in it since the day they met. But 007 never called Q boy, not anymore.  
"I told you what to call me," Tristan tersely interrupted his chain of thought. 

Tristan loved his work. He was a creative spirit, and creative spirits yearn for a certain type of thrill. Tristan could bring mountainous men with stoic faces crashing down at his feet with a few keyboard strokes. Pain- Pain was the only key needed to open the mind's door. Pain and fear. And the man in front of him, barely more than a boy himself, he was the perfect portrait of pain and fear. Everything showed so clearly on his face, in his words, in his movements. The way his back arched and his fists clenched, the way his head twisted and his eyes screwed shut and flew open over and over again. 

And, of course, the way he screamed.

Beautiful.

Mozart played in the background.

Tristan hungrily watched for almost a whole minute, before he remembered himself. Not too much damage, not yet. After all, was he not merciful?

The young man was shaking uncontrollably now, his face wet with tears. His hair was an unruly mop, and his hands jumped every few seconds, as if searching out for something.  
"Would you like a break?" Tristan asked softly. Almost kindly.  
The boy swallowed, his breath shaking. "Y-yes. Sir."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who runs MI6? Moneypenny, tbh.

Five days.  
Q had been missing for five days.   
Five days too long.  
Moneypenny and Bond told M on day 2, not that it helped at all except to get Q branch in a frenzy.   
Bond started feeding Q's cats on day 3.  
On day 4, he asked M for permission to strike out on a solo mission. M said no, but with a weary look in his eyes signaling that he knew Bond would go no matter what he said.  
On day 5, Bond was planning to leave. Moneypenny knew. M probably knew too. That's when they received the video.

It was 2:00 AM when the sound of James' phone jolted him awake.  
"Hello?"  
"James." It was Moneypenny, sounding tense. "You need to get to HQ, now. We have a lead."  
James was completely awake now. "Moneypenny, you are an absolute dream."  
She didn't laugh. "Please, just get here soon, Bond."  
James was there within five minutes. Moneypenny, Tanner, and M stood at the front of Q branch, all hunched over a set of laptops, while a few assorted Q branch minions were furiously typing, lines of code spilling across screens. M looked disgruntled when he saw the agent, already in an immaculate suit.  
"I hope you didn't break any laws just to get here."  
"Oh, just be glad I didn't run over that old lady, she was sure taking her sweet time on that crosswalk."  
"James." Moneypenny was already there, of course, pouring over a laptop, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. "We've just received a communication."  
"From Q?"  
"Unfortunately, no. It's..." James suddenly noticed that her eyes were slightly red, as if she had been crying.  
"007, you'll want to see it for yourself, I'm sure," M said tightly.   
James quickly joined them behind the desk, staring down at the screen. It showed a shockingly white room, completely empty.

Then, James' brother stepped onscreen. James clenched his jaw.   
"He has Q?" He said in an icy tone.  
"Your brother, isn't it?" M said vacantly, eyes focused on the screen. "I saw in the files."  
On the screen, Oberhausen began to speak.  
"MI6, I don't presume that you know who I am, not beyond perhaps a name to a face." He paused.  
"Although I suppose one of your agents knows me very well. Suprised, James?" He smiled broadly at the camera. James' fists clenched.  
"I have a bit of a proposition for you, James. You see, I have your Quartermaster here-"  
The camera panned across the room, and James couldn't help but let out an audible gasp. Q was a wreck. He was on his knees, shirt gone, with his hands tied above his head by a rope attached to the ceiling. His head was slumped down, as if the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor was that rope. Even on the far from pristine view the camera gave James, he could tell that Q was uncontrollably shaking. His body was covered in lash marks, but barely anything beyond the normal. Q could take that. James knew Q could take that. All MI6 personnel were trained to withstand that. And yet, when Oberhausen gripped Q's chin in his hand and forced him to look up at the camera, Q's eyes were so empty, so hollow, as if he had been whittled completely away. It was haunting.   
"What have they done to them?" James growled angrily.   
"Electric shocks, we assume. Medical's been going through the symptoms for hours," Moneypenny replied.  
"Hours?" James interrupted. He whirled around to M.  
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"   
"Because we didn't want you to do anything stupid," M answered angrily.  
"Why would I-"   
"-and so, James Bond, I have a bit of a proposition for you. You come here."  
Oberhauser paused. James' eyebrows knit together.   
"And?" He shouted at the computer. As if on cue, Oberhauser replied.  
"You come here...and nothing. You come here because I need some leverage against the Quartermaster, because he is so very fragile and I don't want to break his mind quite yet." Oberhauser's hands were twisting in Q's hair.   
"No exchange. I'm just asking you to please come here, brother. Because I know you can't resist. You'll come here, and I'll capture you." Oberhauser laughed, high pitched and insane.  
"I'm telling you this all right now! And you're still going to come, because James Bond has to be brave and noble and save the day!" He said with exaggerated bravado.  
"Oh. And MI6, I know you've got a little plan in your little head right now, of how you're going to send in your planes and your armies and your ships and your tanks...but if I see any of that nonsense, Q dies."  
Oberhauser yanked Q's hair back suddenly, his fingers gently closing around Q's neck, almost caressing him. Q let out a broken sob.   
"So James, you'd better get a move on, before daddy finds me first and decides let Q die just so they can get at me..."  
Q suddenly spoke up, his voice hoarse but frantic. "007, do not, I repeat, DO NOT-"   
Oberhauser's face split into a snarl and he drove a knee into Q's stomach, causing Q to let out an almost silent, high scream of pain.   
"It's your choice, James...and I think we all know what your choice will be. Now do hurry, before I let someone move on to more crude tactics...he does have such a pretty mouth." 

The screen went dark.   
"I have to go," James said immediately.   
M groaned. "007, you're not going, we have to send in all our guns!"  
"And risk him killing Q?"  
"This is not a one man mission, I am calling this as a bluff!"  
"I've done this before a thousand times, M, just find the bloody location and let me do a quick in and out rescue op!"  
"There is no such thing as a quick in and out rescue op with you! You'd be playing right into his hand!"  
"As would you, if you send in guns and ships blazing!"  
"Our priority is to destroy his base."  
"Well, my priority is Q."  
Moneypenny groaned. "Boys, boys, can you try for a moment to be sensible? Bond, if you try to be the lone hero, I will shoot you myself for the second time this bloody month."  
M looked over smugly at James.  
"That goes for you and and your stupid plan too, M," Moneypenny snapped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q is not a Bond Girl. He swears. Sorry it took so long to update, I've been busy this last week! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos!

"007? Is that you? I tried to be brave, I really did. I tried to be strong, I promise, I tried to be like you. James... James... James..."

A bucket of cold water hit Q's side. Q scrambled away, fingernails scraping against the white floor stained red with blood.  
"James, it's so cold here..." He mumbled through swollen lips.

"Who's James?" Tristan demanded.   
"Someone...someone who cares about me," Q murmured, barely conscious.  
"No one cares about you," Tristan said in a matter of fact tone.  
Q's eyes flew open, wide.  
"If he cares about you so much, then where is he?"  
Q started shaking again.  
"No one cares about you." Tristan repeated slowly, relishing every word.   
"So just tell me...just say you'll tell me what you know. They don't care about you, they're not coming for you. Just tell me..."  
Tristan's voice was smooth as honey, but Q wasn't stupid. At least, not quite yet. Tristan underestimated him if he thought Q was already broken. 

Because Q remembered.

Q remembered Tristan holding a gun to his head and telling Q just what it would feel like to have a bullet tear through his brain. Q remembered Tristan staring, fascinated, as Q was bent over a slick white table, screaming himself hoarse as guards took turns using his body. He remembered Tristan spelling out exactly how he was going to hurt Q, until Q felt weak and sick before a hand ever touched him. And always the fascination. Like Q was some sort of experiment. 

Q may scream well, he may look like a bloody angel with his stupid teary face, but he was far from broken. Beneath all that, he was still ticking- still calculating and still- he tried to convince himself- working on his own plans. Sometimes the numbers and the words slipped out of his mouth, disjointed and nonsensical. Q hated it. He couldn't control his own body. He was trapped in his own suffering. 

But they weren't going to get close to touching his mind. That was his. Q never broke, not in MI6, not now. 

Suddenly, the door opened.   
"New orders," a gruff voice said. "The boss wants him cleaned up and ready to go."  
Tristan sighed. "Parting is such sweet sorrow."  
A needle was jammed in Q's neck, and he fell unconcious.

When Q woke up, he was in a white room again, once again cuffed to a sleek chair, but this one wasn't covered in his blood- it was more sickening. It was a wider room, with one wall made of glass overlooking a desert landscape and another completely covered with a mirror. Q studied his reflection. He had his glasses back, and his hair had been washed and styled. Dark bags rested under his eyes and a scar zig zagged across his face, from his forehead to his jawline. His neck still bore fingerprint marks. But he was clean. Stitched back together. He was repulsed by what he was wearing- a suit straight out of one of 007's wardrobe. Tight fitting black pants and jacket, a dark blue silk shirt, and a silk tie done in a fancier knot than Q had ever bothered to attempt. The dark colors made his skin look even more pale than it had already become, and in turn his pale skin juxtaposed nicely with the bruises and cuts still healing on the small parts of visible skin.  
"Mr. Q."  
"You again," Q said in an annoyed voice, not even bothering to turn around to see Oberhauser enter the room.  
"I do hope you find our care to your satisfaction."  
Q snorted. "You have got to be joking."  
Oberhauser tutted. "You never learn, do you, Quartermaster? You do like to rile."  
"I suppose I do," Q shot back, his jaw twitching.   
"Are you cold?" Suddenly, one of Q's hands were enveloped in Oberhauser's. Q jerked away violently, his hand curling into a tight fist. Oberhauser quickly removed his perfectly manicured hands.   
"My apologies. They were shaking."  
Q glanced down. His hands were trembling. He hadn't noticed.  
Q scowled at Oberhauser. "Whatever you want from me, you're not getting it. Just kill me now and spare is all the trouble," he said in an offhand tone. Because really, he would rather die. He couldn't keep this up forever. To be honest, the first moment a knife touched his skin his stiff, cool facade melted away. Q couldn't do this for much longer and he knew it. He would rather die than lose his mind protecting the queen and country. He could imagine Bond chiding him at that.  
"Oh, Q, I told you that I don't like to waste my time, you are right there. But you're more useful to me now." Oberhauser reached out, smoothing down Q's jacket.   
"You're my Bond girl."  
"Excuse me- I'm your bloody WHAT?!" Q spluttered.  
"Oh, you know, one of James' girls, don't be dense!" Oberhauser chuckled. "The ones he rescues, he fucks, and he leaves!"  
"I- I am not-"  
"Oh, don't be shy, Quartermaster. You look disgustingly delectable when you blush," Oberhauser smirked. "I've found a pattern with our dear James. Why would I need you for information, when I can have James himself? I don't think you remember- as I recall, you were half unconcious at the time- but we sent James Bond little video a while ago and we all know that he'll be here as soon as his pretty little car can get him here."

Q's stomach dropped. He had been hoping he'd dreamed that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the idea of R being Q's sidekick from before MI6, so that happened. 
> 
> A slightly less dark chapter (for once)
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos!! I can't believe how many people are supporting my trash self

Ok, Moneypenny definitely had a better plan than James and M.  
"Honestly, you are wasted at your desk job," James said, shaking his head in incredulous appreciation.  
"It's still ridiculously reckless," M countered.  
"Better than yours."  
M sighed. "And, I suppose, better than you trying to be a hero. Moneypenny, get R on board with this, she'll be in your comms for this mission."  
Moneypenny smiled slightly in triumph. "Yes, sir."

James had never met the new R before. Q always handled his missions, as James tended to handle the more sensitive of the operations. R had more qualms than Q about killing, he had heard. It didn't make her better or worse for the job, just different. Still, there was something ridiculously attractive about Q calmly issuing the order for a trigger to be pulled. Maybe because previous to the episode in the shooting range, James could scarcely believe such delicate fingers could be capable of pulling said trigger. 

Well, shit. R was about as young as Q, if not younger. She wore black jeans- jeans!- and a button down black shirt, hanging losely rather than being tucked in. She had a rather boyish figure, contributing to her ridiculously youthfulness, much like Q. James couldn't help but notice the blue tie around her neck, which she occasionally fiddled with or twisted nervously around her finger. Q's, he recalled.  
"Is everyone in Q branch still in high school these days?" James grumbled to Moneypenny quietly as they approached R's desk. He had once asked Q the same thing. Quartermasters were hired younger and younger every time, all in the name of keeping up with the ever-evolving tehnology. Unlike Q, R worked in Q Branch with all the other employees, although now she sat at the desk at the head of the room, where Q once would be expected.  
"Bloody hell, she has tattoos! And a nose piercing!" James couldn't help but feel off put by the ink swirling out from under the rolled up black sleeves of R's shirt.  
"Be nice, James, for God's sake. She was one of Q's contacts underground. Got a little too dangerous and ended up here."  
"Of course she did."  
Moneypenny ignored James' grumbling.  
"R. Has M already reached you?"  
"Of course." Up close, R looked sickly, with dark circles under her eyes and an odd, twitchy way about her. James shuddered as he remembered the same half-dying appearance of the Quartermaster, hanging like a slab of meat from the ceiling as Oberhauser played with his hair.  
"As I understand it, this is a two man mission- three, I suppose, if you include me, and four if you include Q."  
"Q?"  
R gave James a strange look. "Yes, Q. He'll be wanting his equipment, I suppose, but if he's in shape he will be a great asset to you." R spoke quickly, almost tripping over her words, as if human contact didn't come naturally to her. She held none of Q's smooth sarcasm about her, or his self-confidence. But she was determined and intelligent, and that was what they needed.  
"Equipment, speaking of equipment- let's get you that. I'm not much for inventions, but I've had some of the most promising stuff sent up."  
R pulled out a large metal case, snapping it open.  
"Exploding pen," she said nonchalantly, holding up a beautifully crafted silver Fountain pen.  
"I like her," Bond commented appreciatively. The sides of R's mouth quirked upwards.  
"Q's invention. Was going to give it to you for your next mission, I believe. You know, we usually don't go in for that sort of thing these days but he was quite insistent on its importance."  
James felt like he had been punched in the chest.  
R pulled out two large guns. "Newly issued. Coded to your hand prints, obviously, Equipped with silencers, scopes, the works."  
She nestled them back in the case, pulling out instead a slimmer hand gun. It looked simple at first glance, but Bond quickly distinguished sleekly hidden buttons and panels that did who knows what. "This one's Q's."  
"I don't think that will be necessary."  
"It will be," R said firmly. "He'll want it."  
Finally, she pulled out a bulletproof vest. "This is yours, Moneypenny. Special issue, developmental technology. While you're wearing this, a bullet won't be able to touch you."  
"Why me? What about Bond?"  
"This whole mission rests on you. When Bond is captured- and he most surely will be, according to your plan- you'll be the one responsible for getting all three of you out alive. Oh, and don't forget the CO2 laser. Those things should be damn standard issue."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta have some R and Q backstory (Maneki-Neko is the name of the Chinese lucky cat- I'm sure Q appreciates that). Sorry for the long wait for the update, the week before Christmas break is hell! I'm thinking the next chapter will be one huge update on Christmas? Also, couldn't help poking some fun at the "Bond girl tied to a bomb" cliche from the movie.

Q was absolutely not a Bond Girl, he told himself resolutely as he was tied to a bomb. 

Really, that had to be the most insultingly cliché villain move. He complained loudly of the campiness of the whole thing until his mouth was gagged with a red satin cloth. Oberhauser inspected the final result, looking satisfied.  
"Bond should be here soon. Alone. That R of yours, she is a good girl. I was trying to get her for Spectre, you know." Oberhauser commented casually. "Ah, of course you know. That is why you recruited her, no? Maybe I should pay her a visit once you and Bond are dead."  
Q clenched his teeth against the gag and decided in that moment that Oberhauser would be dead by the end of the day.

-

Quincy was 15 when he ran away from his homophobic parents and wound up at the only door he possibly could (Basically, the door of the only person in his school who didn't already completely hate him).  
"You know, some people are trying to sleep-"  
"Hey, Zhen," he attempted, smiling weakly. His lab partner's mouth fell open, taking in his disheveled appearance and soaking wet clothes (It had to be raining. Of course it had to be raining.).  
"Quincy," she managed. "Uh, this isn't about the science homework, I'm guessing."  
Quincy's mouth twitched. "Incredible deduction. Can I come in, then?"  
"Uh, sure, my room's over there..."  
Quincy nodded, stepping inside.  
"Thanks," he muttered, color tinging his cheeks. He pushed up his glasses slightly.  
Zhen's room was a mess of computer guts and papers taped up onto the walls. A large metal mixing bowl caught drops of water falling from a leak in the ceiling. Quincy wandered over to her desk, staring at the notebook left open there.  
"Code by hand?" He said in a skeptical voice.  
"Well, the power goes out sporadically and I don't want to lose my work," Zhen said defensively.  
"Oh."  
Quincy awkwardly fiddled with the edge of his sweater, remembering he had a reputation of being the rich know-it-all at his school, while Zhen was the daughter of immigrants who switched between jobs to keep her in school.  
"So. Why are you here?" Zhen glanced up at him questioningly, running her hand nervously through her short black hair.  
Quincy pursed his lips. "Well, it's not like I know anyone else at school. Who wouldn't kill me, that is."  
Zhen rolled her eyes. "If you try avoiding the question again, I might."  
Quincy carefully picked up a rubix cube, twisting it in his hands. "My parents wanted to send me somewhere."  
"What, like boarding school?"  
Quincy tensed up. "Not really."  
He twisted the rubix cube violently, not trying to solve it anymore. He could solve it with his eyes closed if he wanted to.  
"I heard them talking. They wanted me to go through hormone therapy and get doctors to mess with my brain. Because better to be brain dead than attracted to guys, right?" Quincy forced a laugh. He managed to sound only slightly insane.  
Zhen blinked, horror filling her face.  
"Oh my god."  
Quincy set the rubix cube down.  
"Yeah. I'd really like to not talk about it, if that's alright with you."  
Zhen noticed he was shivering for the first time. "Oh- let me grab you something to change into. Did you- you walked all the way here?" Zhen pulled open a drawer.  
"Well, I didn't fly. And I couldn't take a cab, all my money's in the bank and cards are traceable."  
Zhen grabbed a large iron man T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. She handed them to Quincy, carefully turning away as he changed.  
"Your code's good," Quincy said as he pulled off his jumper. "It reminds me of something I saw-"  
"I'm Maneki-Neko on the hacking networks," Zhen blurted out.  
There was a pause. "Liar."  
"No, it's true."  
Quincy laughed a little. "I'm Aristotle."  
"You are not!" Zhen exclaimed. "I've known Aristotle for-"  
"Three years?" Quincy pulled on the plaid pajama pants.  
Zhen groaned. "I'm going to bed now, before this gets any more confusing."

Exactly ten years later, Maneki-Neko was responsible for a major servers crash, resulting in the loss of millions of dollars. 009 was sent to eliminate the threat. Q told him to bring her in instead. 

-

"We're here."  
"I hadn't noticed, Moneypenny."  
James stopped the car right outside of the glare of the facility's lights.  
"Q's going to kill us both for his," James noted.  
"Duly noted."  
James set the car to autopilot and, in synch, he and Moneypenny jumped out of the car.  
"Really a shame," James noted, hands in his pockets. It was quite a beautiful sight, watching the car speed off towards the gates of the facility, guns blazing. Returning gunfire musically pinged off of the car's bulletproof surface.  
"Oh, come on James, let's go."  
The plan: to let Q's car distract the guards long enough that Bond and Moneypenny could sneak around to the back of the base, cutting their way through the fencing with the CO2 laser. Then, Bond would do what he did best: wreck havoc, cause a commotion, kill as many people as possible until he was caught. Meanwhile, R would direct Moneypenny in infiltrating the computer system, locating Q, and securing him before calling in the cavalry. It wasn't a very complicated plan, but both Bond and Moneypenny knew that Murphy's Law applied to every rescue mission: whatever could go wrong, would go wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve! And OH MY GOD, 300 kudos?! I was planning on posting this on Christmas, but I wanted to say thank you to all of you guys for your lovely comments and general amazingness!

Q was pretty sure Oberhauser could revoke that title of Bond Girl, now that he had singlehandedly escaped from his stupid bomb contraption. Not that he was assuming Bond Girls were stupid- 007 had ridiculously good taste. It's just- Bond tended to go for the helpless type. Which Q lamented every day of his damned life, because he didn't feel like playing damsel in distress for anyone, ever.

The mistake that Oberhauser had made was to finally tie Q up, rather than cuff him. Q simply tensed his muscles as much as he could and bent his arms and knees slightly while being tied, and then relaxed once he was left alone. The 1/3 or so inch of slack was more than enough for him to work his way out of the bonds. Unfortunately, he was still facing insurmountable odds, had no weapons, no backup, and was about as strong as a dead fish at the moment. He just needed a gun. Guns were his thing. Well. Computers were his thing, but guns were also very dear to his heart, despite his speeches to 007.  
"Sometimes, a trigger has to be pulled." No shit.

Q screwed his eyes shut. "Think." What would Bond do? ...Bond would be listening to him, if he hadn't taken his damn earpiece out- 

Oh. 

"Right," he muttered. "Escape plan with no tech and no surveillance. I've done this before. 004, last week. Month. Whenever. Doesn't matter."

There's a guard outside the door, Q. You're going to need to take him out silently, so as not to alert anyone else. 

Q set his jaw, grabbed the rope that had tied his hands, and headed for the door. He opened it just barely, just enough to see the back of one guard, directly in front of him. Suddenly, his stomach filled with dread. He swallowed, gripping the rope tighter.

Q, you have to go. Now. Don't miss your window.

Q took a deep breath, and opened the door, and tackled the guard.

"What the-" the guard gasped, fumbling for his gun. Before he could so much as ready the weapon, Q had the rope wrapped twice around his neck, pulling as hard as he could. The man choked, hands scrabbling at the rope. Q felt a sick burst of pleasure. The man deserved to die, he thought as he kicked the man to the ground. He pushed down on the man's head with his shoe, using it for leverage to pull the two ends of the rope tighter. Q wondered for a moment if he even had a license to kill. He barely even had a license to drive, he thought, laughter bubbling up in his stomach. The man was turning purple, his hands uselessly pulling at the rope, his feet scraping across the floor. Finally, he stilled. Q was smiling for the first time in, well, a while. 

Okay, maybe he understood 007 a little better than he would like to admit to.

He disentangled the gun from the man's arms. It was the first time in ten days that he had held a weapon.

Ten days.

He remembered.

-

"Moneypenny, you ready?"  
"Go be a hero, 007."  
James leant over to kiss her on the cheek, but she pushed him away, rolling her eyes.  
"Save it for Q."  
"Oh, shut it." He should have known Moneypenny had figured it out (Well, come to think of it, he flirted to shamelessly with Q that everyone had probably 'figured it out.'). He pulled out the CO2 laser and turned it on. It cast a bright light, illuminating both their faces.  
"R, shut down the power, now."  
"On it," a voice sounded in both their ears. Almost immediately, the lights all shut off.  
"Thank you, R," Bond muttered, grinning as he sliced through the wire fencing. Moneypenny pulled out her gun.  
"Best of luck, 007."  
"And you, Moneypenny. You know, if you want to get back into the field after this, 005's position is still open-"  
"Not a chance, Bond."  
"Right."  
James followed Moneypenny through the fence.  
"Two guards are positioned directly past the storage unit you're behind right now," R warned them.  
James smiled. "Perfect. Moneypenny, dearest, do try not to get caught. I made dinner reservations at a very classy restaurant for three and it cost me quite a portion of MI6's budget."  
Moneypenny smirked, nodding at the agent before slipping into the shadows.  
"R, you into surveillance yet?" Moneypenny hissed, ignoring the distant shouts of the two guards.  
"Not yet," R said. "Give me a minute."  
Moneypenny crouched behind a large truck. A guard was posted just a few meters behind it. She fingered her trigger. It would be so easy...  
"No," she told herself firmly. She couldn't risk getting caught. 

-

James, meanwhile, was up to a kill count of about 14. Make that 15. A guard jumped him from behind, and James easily flipped her over his back, knocking her to the ground and sending a bullet through her forehead. Alarms began to sound.  
"Intruder. South Quadrant. Intruder. South Quadrant."  
Red lights began to flash.  
"Is that all you got?" James muttered to himself.

-

"Well, shit," Q muttered. They knew he had escaped. He heard the clatter of heavy, rhythmic footfalls coming his way.  
"Shit, shit, shit..."  
Q whirled around wildly. The vents. Perfect. He knocked aside the covering for one of the air vents and crawled inside, hurridly pulling the covering back over to hide the gaping hole in the wall. Several guards passed by, all holding heavy guns. The same as the one he had slung around his side. Q swallowed. He doubted, if found, he would be allowed to live.  
"Intruder is one armed male, Southern Quadrant, with seventeen confirmed hits," barked one of the guards. 

Wait, what?!

-

"I'm in," R said in Moneypenny's ear.  
"Is James- 007- alright?"  
There was a pause, and Moneypenny could here the clacking of fingers on a keyboard.  
"It seems so. Looks like some slight injuries, but otherwise unharmed. No bullet wounds. He's currently headed towards one of the buildings-"  
"Thanks, R, for the side commentary," James hissed.  
Moneypenny chuckled. "You didn't switch off your comm, for once."  
"Well, I'd never miss out on your company, Moneypenny."  
"Not the time or the place, James."  
"A squadron of guards is approaching from your left. You have six seconds," R said.  
"Lovely."  
"Outgunned but not outplanned. Moneypenny, you're still not on their radar, and it looks like all the guards are being directed towards 007."  
"As bloody fantastic as I am, I'm not going to be able to take on a squadron of guards. So far, I've just been taking out guards from a distance, but now they know I'm here. If they see me, I'm dead."  
"So don't let them see you. Yet," R supplied. "There's a storage unit to your right. Get on top of it and lie flat. Wait until they move on. You can't be captured until Moneypenny has a direct route planned to get Q out of there."

-

Okay. So there were more people in play here than just Q.  
"James bloody Bond, coming to the rescue yet again," Q muttered to himself sardonically. 

He really, really hoped he hadn't taken The Car. That was a nice car. 

Q crawled out of the vents, listening to make sure no one was coming. 

He had to get to a computer. That was the only way he could signal MI6 (Because James bloody Bond is an idiot sure to be working alone. And Q would really, really, like to destroy Oberhauser and everything he loved.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little short- more to come soon!

"James has been captured- I repeat, James has been captured," R reported tensely.  
Moneypenny nodded to herself. This had been part of the plan- but now, now it was real. MI6's best agent had been taken down, and it was her responsibility to complete the mission. She had been on solo missions before, of course; but those were cocktail parties and assassinations, not all-out facility invasions. This- this was ridiculous, unorthodox. This was James Bond's thing, not hers. Insanity.  
"Right," she whispered. "R, where do I go?"  
"According to Bond's tracker, the big building to the right. Should be pretty easy to spot- ionic columns, otherwise Bauhaus in style."  
"Got it."  
"This is all resting on the assumption that Oberhauser will use Q to taunt 007," R said, sounding tense.  
"Are we really sure about this?"  
"James seemed sure," Moneypenny replied firmly. "And I trust James. Wherever Q is, James has got to be nearby. The furthest eastward building, right?"

-

Q was in the furthest westward building, computer system finally in his grasp. He had shot the two guards to the main computer room without them even noticing that he was there- someone had hacked the security cams, replacing all of the feed with an old spy film in black and white.  
"Zhen," whispered Q, breaking into a grin. He had always found her teasing touches slightly old-fashioned and uncouth, but they did make her recognizable- that was why she did it. Recognition. Even working for MI6, she managed to add her lable to her work. Q hurried to the main computer and began typing in commands.  
"Zhen, you are bloody fantastic."

-

"Wait! Moneypenny-"  
"Yes?" Hissed Eve, quickly ducking under a pile of crates to avoid a pair of guards.  
"I- I think Q's contacting me over the server!"  
"Well then, where the hell is he?"  
"Other side- most westward building- wait-"  
"What is it?"  
"We have to call off MI6, they can't come here once you get 007 and Q free."  
"Why not?!"  
"A bomb's set to go off if Oberhauser's plans are at all put at risk."  
Moneypenny groaned. "Lovely."

-

James wasn't one for family reunions, he decided.  
"James," Oberhauser greeted him, smiling menacingly.  
"How lovely to see you."  
"Where's Q?" James said coldly.  
"Oh, he's doing quite well. Compared to last week, I mean. Obviously he's still terribly injured and don't even get me started on the mental trauma-"  
James growled, snapping forward against his bonds. Useless.  
"We didn't use this on little Q, though, no, his brain's far too precious for such tampering. You, on the other hand..."  
James set his jaw, refusing to give Oberhauser any response.  
"What shall we start with? Your pristine hand-eye coordination? Your facial recognition? Your long-term memory?"  
Oberhauser chuckled. "Q, I think, didn't need such a threat. Pain was enough. He thought he was a locked up box, not telling us anything, but he did tell us so much. He always pleaded for you to come help him, in his sleep. Or when he was in too much pain to know what he was saying."  
James clenched his teeth together.  
"I have to say, I'm suprised, James. Is that thing really your type? So, so skinny. And so inexperienced, from what I've heard." Oberhauser paused. "What I've heard from the guards."  
James' fists clenched. He wished Moneypenny would hurry up. He was very much looking forward to killing Oberhauser slowly.

-

Moneypenny ran through the empty hallways of the West Building, gun clenched in her hand. All the guards had been called to take down James and anyone he might have brought with him, but they would be back soon now that James was captured. Monty turned a corner and collided into a stick-thin boy with messy ginger hair. He fell to the ground, and Moneypenny instinctively aimed her gun at his head. The boy looked up, a defiant spark in his eye.  
"Go ahead, kill me. I'd rather die than give Oberhauser what he wants."  
Moneypenny lowered her gun slightly. "You're a prisoner here."  
The boy blinked, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. "You're- you're not one of them?"  
Moneypenny shook her head. "We're getting out of here. Are there any more of you?"  
"I- I don't know."  
"What's your name?"  
"Tristan."


	11. Chapter 11

"What are you doing here?"  
Q froze, his hands hovering over the keyboard. He turned around slowly to see a clueless looking guard standing in the doorway. Q had carelessly tossed his gun to the side, forgetting in the heat of the moment that someone might interrupt his online rendezvous with R. He swallowed. He couldn't shoot his way out of this one, and he bloody well couldn't fight out of it, either. Only one option left.  
"Ah, routine firewall check," Q improvised wildly. The guard's gun was hanging in her hands, not ready to fire, but enough to communicate a threat.  
"We had one of those yesterday," the woman said, sounding more annoyed than suspicious. She seemed slightly harassed and tired, as if she wanted more than anything to just go home and surf netflix. Me too, Q thought.  
"Well, it's protocol to...scan the servers for interference when there's a...disturbance." Q tried to imitate 007's easy confidence.  
The guard nodded, bored. Still not even mildly suspicious. Q's wild guessing at evil villain backup plans was somehow not completely going to shit.  
The guard pushed a strand of hair out of her face, huffing loudly. Q supposed IT guys got the same level of respect no matter where they worked. "Just get out of here as soon as possible, I have a job to do."  
"Of course." Q thanked the lord that all of his wounds were hidden by his ridiculously well-tailored suit. A perfect disguise, a perfect distraction. He understood why 007 was so fond of them. Q quickly closed all of the open channels, erasing any evidence of his communication within five seconds. He hurried out the door, careful to keep his footsteps at an at least slightly reasonable pace as he walked down the hall.  
"Wait."  
Q stopped, holding his breath.  
"You forgot to log it."  
Q turned around, faking a smile. "Oh, right. I'm always forgetting that."  
The guard passed him a clipboard.  
Q scanned it.

DATE - TIME - OBJ. INQ. - INN.  
3/7 7:39AM FX. C1. R.F.  
3/29 3:27PM SCN. G. D.H.  
4/13 5:49 PM HCK. EXT. F.L.  
4/18 11:58 AM UPGR. G. F.L.  
5/16 2:45 AM SCN. MN. R.F.

The time... Q remembered glancing it on the computer, at least he thought he did. The guard cleared her throat and he smiled nervously, scribbling in

5/17 12:57 AM SCN. MN. D.H.

He handed the clipboard back. "Thanks for saving me."  
Q had almost turned around to leave, when-  
"I thought you said you were doing a firewall check, not a main computer scan."  
Q stiffened. "Oh- did I put that?" He backed away nervously. "If you don't mind- I'll just fix that later-"  
"I'd like to see your access card," the guard said in a dangerously soft voice.  
"Erm- like I said- lots of things to do- will fix it later-" Q stumbled back over his own feet, close to running.  
The guard grabbed her radio. "We have an intruder in West Building, I repeat, intruder in the West Building-"  
Q broke into a sprint. Before he had gotten five feet away, the guard knocked him to the ground. Q tried to scramble back, but the guard easily forced his head to the ground, using her forearm to pin Q down across the neck, choking him. Q uselessly pawed at her arm, legs kicking out, but it was no use. Black edged into the sides of his vision until everything went dark.

-

"I have got to stop waking up like this," Q muttered, knowing before he opened his eyes that he was once again strapped to a damn chair. His head throbbed, and he was fairly sure he had reopened several wounds in his struggle with the guard.  
"Q! Q, are you alright?"  
Q groaned inwardly. Of course. It had to be this. Him, tied to a chair, awaiting the rescue of the one, the only-  
"007. Do I perchance recognize those as your sultry tones?" Q quipped, blinking. He was once again without his glasses.  
"Q, are you alright?" 007 repeated urgently.  
"I'm fine," Q spat out. Somehow, this whole thing was rubbing him the wrong way. He felt defensive. 007 must view him as a pathetic child, fragile and in need of care. Even now, he was longing for 007 to see him as an equal, someone he could fall in love with, not just fall in bed with. Ridiculous, that he still cared what 007 might think of him. Q could kick himself. 

Suddenly, the cold blade of a knife pressed into Q's neck.  
"Oberhauser, if you so much as lay a finger on him, I will destroy you," 007 warned, making Q want to role his eyes. Knife to the neck? No problem. Boring. Q suddenly glimpsed a flash of who Oberhauser really was- weaker than 007, less creative than Tristan, less smart than Q, less resourceful than Moneypenny. Oberhauser was a no one who was never anyone's golden boy, trying desperately hard to be the most important person in his small world. 

"I could kill you," Oberhauser hissed in Q's ear. "Right here, right now."

And right then and there, Q snapped. He was so tired of this. He was tired of people using him and playing with him for their own amusement. He was tired of being a stupid pawn in Oberhauser's game, tired of his taunts and lazy threats. Because Q was so much more than what Oberhauser imagined him to be. Q wasn't some little boy waiting for his white knight to come and rescue him. He could rescue his god damn self, thank you very much. He wasn't bait. He was one of the smartest men in the world, and it was about god damn time someone remembered it.

"Yeah?" He spit out. "So could any other human. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You're not special."  
Oberhauser chuckled, but Bond did, too. Q glared in the general direction of both of them.  
"So..." Oberhauser finally said. "What to do with you, Q, now that we've got Bond?"

-

"God damn it," R quietly cussed into Moneypenny's earpiece.  
"What is it?"  
R bit her lip nervously. "They've got Q." She took a deep breath. It was going to be fine. She could do this. "But, on the bright side, he managed to help me get completely into their system beforehand. Alarms, electricity, unlimited camera access. And all of their data, to boot. We should send Q branchers on missions more often. Much easier than trying to walk a hunk of meat- I mean agent- through computer hacking."  
"Trust me, I know what you mean," Moneypenny replied. "Okay, so what do I do?"  
"Stay there, hidden behind the doorway in the hall. They'll be passing you in approximately 17 seconds. When they do, follow them out of sight. I haven't got any cameras on Oberhauser, but I'm sure he's still on sight."  
"No contact with Bond, then?"  
"Earpiece was destroyed. Who's got the pen?"  
"I have."  
"Excellent." Suddenly, R felt like the evil genius in the situation, ready to rain hell upon her enemies. It was a rule that had been established long, long ago, when Quincy and Zhen first became friends- touch Quincy, and Zhen will murder you. She smiled coldly.  
"I know exactly what we're going to do, and if everyone does exactly what I say, everyone will get out alive."  
"Oh, speaking of such, while you were off comms working with Q, I picked someone up. Another prisoner, son of someone important who Oberhauser was using for leverage. Tristan, say something."  
A slightly faraway voice said "Um-"  
"Perfect," Moneypenny came back on. "There's no time to do a search for additional prisoners, I want our priority to be finishing this mission. But we're getting him out of here."  
R sighed. She trusted Moneypenny and looked up to her a great deal, but a most likely injured young prisoner- that was a dead weight.  
"Can't you leave him somewhere?" She hissed.  
"R, he's been through a lot," Moneypenny warned.  
R groaned.  
"You're not very good with people, are you?" Moneypenny accused. "Got to go- they're coming."  
R watched through her computer as the unconcious Q was dragged down the hallway.  
"Fine. Take him with you, but make sure he stays quiet. And once you've located Oberhauser, get him somewhere safe and get him later. It'll be safer for both of you."  
The comm remained silent as the guard and Q passed the door Moneypenny was hiding behind.  
"I'll take that as a yes. No further discussion needed."

-

Moneypenny couldn't help but roll her eyes at R's snark. She couldn't imagine how Q and R had become friends. They were similar, yes, but too similar- she couldn't imagine how they met without managing to blow each other up. In Q's case, opposites attracted, Moneypenny noted, thinking of James. Q usually hated anyone who could compete with him on an intellectual level, forever bristling at the older MI6 personnel in an attempt to prove his competence. R and Q- Moneypenny supposed they must have quite a long and illustrious history.  
"Ok, Tristan, follow me and be quiet about it, OK? I promise I'll keep you safe," Moneypenny said in a calming voice. Tristan nodded nervously. Moneypenny slowly opened the door, waiting until Q and the guard were almost at the end of the hall before sliding out. The halls were bare and open, leaving Moneypenny feeling vulnerable and watched despite the continued power outage in the hallway- R's doing, although everything R wanted operational had remained powered up. When they reached the outdoors, Moneypenny almost felt relaxed.

-

"Come on, Oberhauser, it's not him you want to hurt, it's me," 007 said in an almost lazy tone. Q felt the knife digging into his neck a little more.  
"Oh, I think this will hurt you," Oberhauser replied, smiling widely. "You can't fool me, James."  
James half-smiled. "So MI6 sent me on a rescue mission. You really think you can hurt me by hurting him?"  
Q felt like he had been punched in the stomach all over again. Of course not, of course 007 didn't return his affections, Q was never anything but a piece of equipment to be used and returned for bloody Queen and Country. He felt tears pricking his eyes. It had been a long day.  
"Don't you remember?" Bond demanded. "Emotional attachment is weakness, Oberhauser. Look where it got you."  
Oberhauser was silent for a moment. Then he let out a long, howling laugh, shrill as the wind. "James, James, James, why do you lie to me like this? It really communicates-" Oberhauser paused, as if searching for the right phrase. "It really communicates a lack of respect. And look, you've upset the boy." Oberhauser's finger delicately wiped away the tear in the corner of Q's eye. Q was furious.  
"Stop it," he spat out.  
"I suppose I may have overestimated our dear James," Oberhauser sighed over- dramatically. "Even James I'll-fuck-anything-that-moves Bond wouldn't go for you, hmm?"  
Q looked straight forward at the white expanse of the wall, his jaw clenched.  
"Not such a clever boy," Oberhauser hissed into his ear, each word crisp and clear, his breath wet and hot. Q jerked back, his shoulders bruising against the metal chair at Silva's old words.

And then, the world exploded.

-

Moneypenny clicked the pen and threw it at the door, backing up a good distance away and readying her gun. 

5\. 

Tristan was outside, hidden behind a tall pile of crates. He'd be fine.

4\. 

Bond was in that room and Moneypenny was going to get him the hell out of there, Bond had survived worse than this. He'd be fine.

3.

Moneypenny was ready for this. She hated to admit it, but being out in the field again...it was like returning to the land of the living.

2\. 

Q wasn't going to be fine, he would never be fine again. Moneypenny knew this. But everyone got captured. Everyone got tortured. It was part of the job. Maybe Q would never be the same, but he'd be alive and that was all that they needed.

1.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we have reached the end of our journey! Oh my god, I never could have imagined that so many people would be reading and commenting on this. This has been a lot of fun and thank you so much for all of you who have been keeping me going with this. I thought this would be a short drabble, not the first multi-chapter fic I actually completed! Thank you so much for all the support you guys have given me, and I hope you enjoy the last chapter!

And the exploding pen, well, exploded. The metal doors were knocked in, both warped beyond recognition and hanging haphazardly from their hinges. The room was filled with smoke, making Moneypenny's eyes sting and her throat scratch. She fired a warning shot just an inch from Oberhauser's left shoe.  
"It's over, Oberhauser," Moneypenny said calmly, her gun trained on the man's head. Oberhauser had been knocked to the floor in the explosion, and had suffered a direct hit to the stomach from a sharp piece of shrapnel. Moneypenny herself had been speared by enough pieces of stainless steel to know that it wasn't a fatal wound- just extremely painful. Oberhauser wheezed, his hand clenched to his side and his white, white suit stained with the spreading of blood. Moneypenny carefully edged over to James, keeping her gun trained on Oberhauser the entire time.   
"Moneypenny?" Q squinted desperately through the smoke and made out the blurry figure of MI6's best technically-not-an-agent.  
"How do I open the cuffs?" Moneypenny demanded. "Tell me, or your death will be a lot sooner than anticipated."  
Oberhauser vaguely gestured to the computer, making a disgusting hacking noise in his throat. A trickle of blood fell from his lips. Moneypenny walked over to the computer, carefully treading on Oberhauser's fingers in the process. She carefully typed in a few commands, and the metal bands keeping James' wrists and ankles pinned instantly sprung open.  
James immediately rushed to Q's side, carefully untying his wrists, trying his best not to irritate the already rubbed raw skin. Q immediately curled his arms to his chest, rubbing his sore wrists and looking anywhere but Bond's face. He looked so skinny and pale, as fragile as a piece of glass. James couldn't do anything but stare. Words failed him. He wanted to say so much, but in the face of all that had happened he just couldn't.  
"Alright?" He grunted.  
Q just shrugged, still avoiding his eyes.   
"What should we do with him?" Moneypenny asked sharply. "Guards will be here any second and we have no escape."   
"Allow me," James said grimly, turning to Moneypenny and reaching for the gun. She handed it to him, nodding.  
"No," Q cut in, voice as brittle as ice.  
James and Moneypenny whirled around.   
"I want to kill him." Q's eyes looked half empty and half full of fire and insanity.  
"Q..." James frowned slightly. "Are you sure about this?"  
Q's eyebrows knit together. "Sure? Why wouldn't I be sure? Of course I'm..." He took a deep breath.   
"Give me the gun, 007."  
"No."   
Q looked furious. "Why not? Give me- give me the god damn gun, 007!"   
Q made a desperate grab at the gun. James quickly pulled it out of his reach.   
"Q, this isn't you. Don't do this."  
Q's eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead. "007, I have brought down entire countries within minutes. I have bombed cities and wrecked havoc on every nation on the map! If this is about some- some stupid sense of my innocence-"  
"Maybe it is!" Shouted James. "Q, pulling a trigger on a person- that's not you."  
"Then explain how I've already done it at least five times today!"  
Silence.  
James handed over the gun, jaw clenched. 

A gunshot.

A thump.

Except the gun wasn't just Q's, and two bodies had fallen to the ground. 

Behind Q's sprawled, already bloodstained figure, Tristan held a still smoking pistol and wore the same crazy, empty look in his eyes as Q had. 

-

"Tristan, what the hell are you doing? Thank god you only shot him in the leg, he's on our side!" Moneypenny yelled, furious. Q was completely unconcious from the pain, James already applying pressure to the wound.   
Tristan didn't seem to be listening. "I heard gunshots," he said in a strange, childish voice, his gun still raised. His eyes found Oberhauser's body, a clean shot left by Q cutting straight through his forehead.   
"You killed him."  
"Tristan, you're clearly in shock. Put the gun down-"  
"He was like a father to me, you know," Tristan said suddenly, his voice cracking a little.  
"What?" Moneypenny felt like she was drowning. She had messed up, she had been tricked, if Q died it would be all her fault- It was her fault, again, just like the train, and Bond falling down, down-  
"You killed him," Tristan repeated. "You killed him!" His gun seemed to move on its own accord, aiming straight at Moneypenny's chest. 

But James shot first.

Moneypenny blinked. "Thanks."   
Three bodies lay on the floor, two abandoned and one cradled in James' arms.  
"Let's get out of here."  
Suddenly, red lights began to flash and sirens began to wail.  
"Oberhauser has been compromised. Automatic destruction of property in T-5 minutes."  
"Ah, that wraps everything up nicely." James picking Q up, bridal style.  
"Let's go steal a jeep and get the hell out of here."

-

1 WEEK LATER

"Moneypenny."  
"M."  
"You acted remarkably well on your latest mission, returning both our top agent- don't tell him I called him that- and our Quartermaster back in one piece."  
"Thank you, sir. And again, I take full responsibility for the Quartermaster's injury."  
"Moneypenny, 005's position is still open-"  
"No. Not after what happened. I nearly got Q killed because of a- a stupid mistake-"  
"Your error was reasonable and no one blames you in any way. I don't know how many times more I'm going to have to say that before I convince you."  
"For all eternity and a day after that, M."  
"Bond wants you in the program."  
"Does he?"  
"Come on, Moneypenny. One mission. That's all I'm asking. The truth is, we need more 00 agents and no one is more qualified than you."  
"Keep going..."  
"Please."  
"005. I like it. I think I'll keep it."

-

"Q, you can't avoid me forever."  
"I can bloody well try," muttered Q under his breath.  
"What was that?" 007 leaned over his desk, grinning.  
"I said it's nice to see you too, 007."  
"Really."  
Q ignored 007, continuing with his frantic typing.  
"Q, maybe you can...attempt to avoid me, but you can't avoid everyone. Moneypenny. R. They worry about you."  
"Well. They don't need to. I'm fine," Q spat out.  
James' eyebrows crinkled. "Q, why are you doing this?"  
"Doing what?"  
"Acting like this. Like you're fine."  
"I am fine, 007, so if you would just let me do my job-"  
In his haste to wave the agent away, Q accidentally knocked his mug of tea to the ground. As of in slow motion, it fell off his desk, the mug shattering and sending shards across the floor.  
"Damn it." Q clumsily clambered off his chair and onto the floor, sitting on his knees and anxiously picking up the larger shards. Of course, James Bond, the gentleman that he was, had to help. Q rested his forehead against the leg of his desk, taking in a shuddering breath.  
"Q." James grabbed his hand.  
"It's okay, to not be okay."  
Q shook his head violently, not turning around. "No, you don't get it, do you? I have to be okay, you're always okay and I can't be- I can't be like this."  
James was silent for a moment. Q took another shuddering breath.  
"I have nightmares every night," James said quietly.  
"What?"  
"We're not okay, Q. We go on because we have to, but...you've been so strong. Please, Q, just let go now. It's okay."  
Q seemed still as a statue.  
"Do you need help getting up?" James asked gently.  
Q nodded, then nodded again.  
"Okay."   
James stood up and carefully gave Q his arm, letting the Quartermaster pull himself upright. His leg was still injured and he couldn't walk without crutches- although rumor had it the Quartermaster was constructing himself some sort of cyborg leg. Even once Q had stood up, they continued standing together, supporting each other, Q's hands on James' arms and James' hands on Q's shoulders.  
"James?"  
"Yes?"  
"You didn't mean it, when you said that..."  
"No."   
"You didn't let me finish."  
"No, Q, I didn't mean it when I said you didn't matter."  
"Oh." Q looked down. "Am I that obvious?"  
"Well-"

"And then," Bond later related to Moneypenny, "/He/ kissed /me/."


End file.
